A TINY FLOWER

A tiny flower upon a wall

Tiny beautiful and small,

Most people would pass it by,

Its sweetness they'd not espy.

Yet the creator of all the world

Says, 'In this is love unfurled'

So let's not rush, but let us see

God's wonders there for you and me.

Let's look around us as we walk

For in creation God can talk.

Each tiny flower speaks of this love

For all are blessings from above.

Elizabeth Tomlinson, Richmond

DEAD AND ALIVE

I've worked in factories far too long:

I've laboured forty years, all but

Through force of circumstance, among

More mugs, like me, stuck in a rut.

The fight to keep my head afloat

In fiscal waters, meant for me

But little choice, than to devote

My life to dismal drudgery.

So, when I hear that final knell

I'll argue, with my dying breath

That factory work's a taste of Hell:

This isn't life: it's living death!

Ken Orton, Ferryhill Station

THE OLD WOMAN

The woman was old, ragged and grey

bent with the chill of the winter's day

The streets were wet with the recent snow

and the woman's feet were feeble and slow.

She stood at the crossing and waited long

alone, uncared, for he who made the throng

Of human beings who passed her by or

heeded the gaze of an anxious eye.

Down the street with laughter and shout

glad in the freedom school let out.

Come girls and boys like a flock of sheep

hailing the snow drifts white and deep.

Past the woman so old and grey

hastened the children on their way,

No offering help in hand to her

the timid old woman afraid to stir

lest the wheels or the horses' feet

should strike her down the slippery street.

At last came one of the merry troop,

the gayest lad of all the group,

he paused beside her and whispered low,

I'll help you across if you wish to go.

An aged hand on a strong young arm held close

without hurt or harm he guided these trembling feet along,

proud that his own was young and strong.

Away back to his friends he went, his young heart happy and well content.

She's somebody's mother, boys you know,

although she's aged, poor and slow.

I hope someone will lend a hand to help my mother, you understand

Whenever she's poor, old and grey and her only son is far away.

Somebody's mother bowed her head that night.

The prayer she said was God be king

to that noble boy, he's somebody's son, pride and joy.

Mrs Yvonne Martin, Willington

RAIN

Rain everywhere

In your face

Down the stairs

On the roads

In your street

Fields unfold

Into rivers

Stranded folk

In boats

Wellies' worn

Not for fashion

Faces forlorn

Clearing skies

Respite beckons

Community sighs

For a moment

Clouds disappear

But then the torment

Bernie Walsh, Coxhoe

COXHOE MORNING

A cock crows,

Fields of wheat

Sends a glow

The morning sun rises

As the wind blows

Birds chatter

Spreading their wings

Ready for flight

Two blackbirds hover

For a while

Between steeple and tower

To seeds of grain

Eager dogs with walkers

Taking time to run

To sit and roll

Jumping like grasshopper

A Peace Haven cowers

Flowers and herbs

Blue and yellow colours

Mark a memorial.

Bernie Walsh, Coxhoe

MIKE REID - BEST OF THE OLD SCHOOL

Mike Reid

Best of the Old School,

Of stand up comedians.

The star of 'The Comedians,'

Has gone to a far better place,

To the Wheeltappers and Shunters Social Club - above.

I bet!

The comic giant,

With his Cockney catchphrase

'Terrific!' and 'Move Yer Arris'

Is making them laugh.

Keep them laughing

Up there,

Like you did

Down here.

Their gain

Is our loss.

Khadim Hussain, Middlesbrough